Canvas of Flowers
by Forbiddensoul562
Summary: Near, protégé to the famous tattoo artist L, has just opened his own shop against his mentor's advice. However, next door to him sits The English Garden, a flower shop maintained by its often intimidating owner, Mello. Will this close proximity prove to be the answer to Near overcoming his tattooing troubles, or will the pressure of competition be too much to handle? MelloxNear.
1. Prologue

Canvas of Flowers

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of the character used within this piece.

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Chapter 1: Prologue

 _'This was a bad idea…'_ Near thought to himself from where he stood on the edge of the sidewalk, his eyes fixated upon the sign hanging over his new shop; his very first tattoo parlor. He had worked so hard to get himself to this moment, and yet seeing its physicality made every part of his being reconsider all that effort.

Written in a fancy black script against a stark white background were the words, 'The Black Sheep,' positioned on the building's brick façade just above the large glass that covered nearly the entire bottom half of the building, its presence giving the old building a more approachable atmosphere.

The shop itself looked good. It wasn't a bad setup, its general location in the city was in no way awful, and if Near were perfectly honest the name itself was ironically perfect, given his circumstances, for all he had ever felt like was a black sheep in the greater scheme of this industry.

But standing there in the shadow of the product to all of those conditions… it suddenly almost felt too much to handle. If he had any less pride in himself, or perhaps arrogance, he would have immediately backed out of this deal and admitted defeat to L.

That familiar, low somber voice played through his head, _"You're not ready, yet."_ He had told Near without hardly bothering to cast him even the slightest of glances. _"You have more to learn if you want to truly carry my name and legacy behind your work."_

Near had been a diligent apprentice to L, one of the best realist tattoo artists in the world, and had always made a concerted effort not to second guess the individual who had spent the last three years training him to do the same. But in this decision L had been wrong. What did it matter if Near wasn't able to recreate that same realistic style when tattooing flowers, of all things, if he was able to with every other subject matter? Why should that matter alone keep him from venturing on his own to start his own career?

It had seemed like such a negligible point back when he'd decided to leave, but standing there now… he truly did feel like a black sheep; as though somehow L had gotten the last laugh. Like always…

"Near?" His assistant, and currently the only other employee of the establishment, Rester, said with his light blue eyes trained on him.

The younger released the breath he'd been unconsciously holding tight in his lungs, savoring that pain over the consuming sensation of defeat. _'Why_ _a flower_ _shop?'_ He questioned with a small shake of his head, his gaze flicking over to the store built against his own, daring so far as to share a wall between the two premises. _'Why did it have to be a flower shop…'_

He wasn't an idiot, nor was he ignorant to the unconscious subliminal effects peoples surroundings had on the decisions they made in their daily lives. By having Near's shop located immediately next to a flower show, the likelihood that people would pass by, see the blossoms, and be influenced to walk into his premises and request flowers to be incorporated into their piece was significantly increased. Theoretically this _would_ be fine… But Near was not in the habit of agreeing to take pieces he didn't think he could complete to absolute precision.

Near called it being a perfectionist. L called it 'creating a financial stranglehold.'

Near had never been one to give much weight to religion, but the notion of karma was beginning to look pretty convincing…

"This will have to work." He finally responded to both Rester as well as himself, for of course this would _have_ to work. He had already signed the lease for the space. "Let's set things up. I'd like to open within the next few days."

Rester nodded, seeming to pick up on the artist's tension, yet remaining silent as they both proceeded from their rooted spots on the sidewalk inside the shop.

As their location was situated relatively close to the center of the city the amount of physical space allocated was smaller than what Near had come to be used to, the area consisting of an almost entirely open floor plan for him to make use of. Though, a tall wooden counter stood parallel to the entrance with only a few feet separating the two, its presence acting as a natural barrier between what would be their waiting area and the rest of the space. By the back of the shop there was a single dividing wall at the back left side of the room, blocking off the sight of a set of stairs leading to the floor above, where a simple one bedroom apartment was to become Near's new living accommodations.

What relatively few things Near did have were all still in boxes scattered around the room, yet already the space seemed to hold a good feeling to it; something the outside seemed to lack. It was the feeling of ownership, and of possessing something that could be manipulated to his will as he saw fit, rather than living beneath L's overshadowing wing that had obscured his view of the sky. This was freedom, and he had every intention of proving that he knew how to soar.

"Let's get started." He said with a low exhale, moving to one of the unlabeled boxes awaiting his attention on the counter.

-:-

 _'What am I possibly going to do with all of this? It seems hardly fitting to hang everything around the space.'_ Near thought to himself from where he sat on the floor in the center of the shop surrounded by a chaotic organization of loose papers consisting of an array of drawings and paintings he'd collected during his time as an apprentice, the subject matter ranging from simple still lifes, portraits, and all variations between. What, if anything, was worth putting up for everyone who passed through his door to see?

 _'Perhaps I should organize by theme… organic life versus inorganic.'_ He considered as his analytical stare meticulously surveyed each piece while in the background Rester worked moving the larger furniture around to its proper position. He sat up, pushing all the pages back into one pile, ultimately deciding against hanging any of it.

Suddenly the front glass door was pulled open, sending a chiming ring throughout the quiet area from the bell that hung on the top of the door. Both sets of eyes looked up from their respective positions, coming to land upon a blonde male who looked curiously around the room.

Near's eyes immediately narrowed on him, at once painfully aware of the black clothes adorned by the blonde that popped with color by a single faded red apron, his nearly shoulder length locks of hair tamed by a matching red bandana situated on top of his head.

"I'm sorry but we're not open for business yet." Rester broke the silence, setting down the large mirror he'd only just begun moving to instead go to the front counter.

Near's fingers moved up to twirl a strand of white hair as he stood from his pile of papers to cautiously approach the unfolding scene as well; slate eyes locked upon the small, bright orange object held between the intruder's fingers.

Blue eyes shot to Rester, "I know you're not." He stated, his tone entirely confident in himself and lacking even the slightest hint of nervousness about having just knowingly entered into a closed establishment. "I'm looking for the owner."

"That would be me." Near stated, finally stepping directly up to the counter area and pausing only momentarily before proceeding through the gap to fully stand before the other.

"You?" The blonde asked incredulously, obviously taken aback by the statement as his azure eyes immediately scanned over Near's relatively plain form, clad in what was his own conventional white outfit.

He sighed with an internal roll of his eyes, knowing that this would be the first of an ongoing string of surprised responses to that statement in his establishment. Generally speaking it wasn't the first time someone had reacted in this manner to knowing he was a tattoo artist, either, and how could he blame them considering that he in no way looked like the traditional depiction of someone of his occupation. Even someone like Rester, with his older form and a few select visible tattoos displaying his old military service made him come across as a much more fitting candidate for an owner, let alone a tattoo artist.

Still, that didn't mean the general reaction didn't get old all the same.

"Is there a problem with that?" Near questioned, to all appearances seeming entirely unfazed by the scrupulous look the other had offered him.

"No, I…" The words caught in the blonde's throat. But within a second it had been swallowed down and was replaced with his hardened composure once more. "My name is Mello. I own The English Garden, the flower shop next door."

"You?" Near couldn't help let the childish retort slip, only afterwards half-heartedly chiding himself that this was no way to establish solid ground with his neighbor.

"Yes, me!" Mello said, the annoyance showing as he clearly picked up on Near's intention. "I came over to welcome you here." He continued, his tone acquiring a strained level of evenness that Near couldn't help finding particularly interesting.

Suddenly the blonde's right hand was extended, offering out the single, small orange blossom of a flower that he'd been holding, his look flicked from Near to the flower, the feeling of nervousness finally seeming to arise within his energy. "It's a Marigold." He stated. "Contrary to what they used to mean, more recently a lot of people consider them representative of a desire for success and wealth."

Near took the offered flower, gingerly holding the stem between his fingers and for a moment he contemplated telling this abrasive blonde, Mello, that he didn't need to be given a drive for success and wealth, and that he was more than capable of generating it for himself. After all, if he wasn't then there was no way he would have gotten to this point to begin with. Still, he recognized the social ineptitude such a response would show. "Thank you, Mello. I apologize for my initial rudeness, you can call me Near."

"Near. Right." Mello said quietly, as though trying the name out. "Well, look," His arms shifted from where they had hung at his sides to instead fold together over his chest defensively. "The people who owned this before you ran some sort of vintage clothing store, but they used to play music loud enough that my customers could hear it. I know what the culture is, behind you and businesses like yours."

"My culture?"

"I'm not saying you can't play music if you want to, or anything else you want to do. But be conscientious of those of us around you, alright? I have a business to run, too, and if profits go down because _you_ decide to ignore my warning, well… let's just say there's a reason for the Marigold's old, original meaning." He concluded, his arms remaining crossed over his chest as he turned on his heels to go to the exit once more.

Near had just enough time to give the flower in his hand a quick, skeptical glance, "And that meaning is?"

Mello stopped with the glass door pushed halfway open, turning back to him. "Cruelty and grief, usually in association with death." With that he was gone, the jingling of the bell suddenly the only sound between the two remaining occupants.

Near's eyes moved back to the Marigold in his fingers, a heavy weight seeming to flow into his being through his contact with it. He turned to Rester, finding his own hesitant look watching him, waiting for him to make a judgment call, of which Near was more than willing to oblige, "I'd say that went rather well, wouldn't you?"

Rester blanched, "That's… Not quit the word I would have used."

"What would your word choice be, then?"

The older man's lip tightened into a confused line, "Abrasive, perhaps."

Near shook his head, "Not at all. It's not abrasive so much as it is passion. I can respect passion." He stated, turning to return to his pile of papers and placing the single Marigold down on the smooth wooden countertop as he passed by. Though as he lowered himself to the floor that his attention remained perfectly trained upon the flower seeming to hang over him, and the intriguing blonde that came attached to it.

Indeed, Near could respect passion, for it was something he understood down to the very marrow of his bones. He could _work_ with passion. And as far as Near was concerned, the way it seemed to stand now, Mello had made the first move, but if Near could play the game well enough then he could indeed prove to L that he didn't need to be cooped up in order to learn; that he could learn through his _own_ means. He would prove that he had what it took to carry on L's name and legacy, and that fiery blonde was Near's ticket to doing so.

Suddenly The Black Sheep's location didn't quite seem so bad after all.

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A/N: Welcome to the first installment of this new story! I've talked elsewhere about where the idea came from so instead allow me to merely say that I hope this first part has intrigued you as much as the general idea did for me when I stumbled across it last year. Since beginning to write this I've hardly been able to put it down, and I am so excited to write this and to share it with all of you. I know this is basically the same piece I posted on Tumblr before, but I would greatly appreciate hearing any thoughts or comments you have thus far!

Please review  
 _-Forbiddensoul562_


	2. Shades of Intrigue

Canvas of Flowers

Disclaimer: Please see Chapter 1 for full disclaimer.

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Chapter 2: Shades of Intrigue

' _Perhaps this was a bad idea…'_ Near thought to himself, as his gray orbs scanned over the array of sketches and images that lay strewn atop the counter. A thick cloud of silence hung over the only three occupants of the open room, each one waiting for the other to take responsibility for breaking them from their impasse. He didn't want to do it, but logistically he knew that as owner such pressures ultimately fell upon his shoulders.

"I can't do it." He finally stated, the words expressing a far higher level of defeat than he had originally intended.

The potential client positioned across from him, a young woman who looked as though she was barely breaking her twenties, hardened her gaze on him. "Why not?"

His look broke from hers, choosing instead to fixate upon the images she'd brought with her and that the two of them had been debating over for at least fifteen minutes now. At the center lay an old-time photograph of a woman for whom Near could only assume was her family member, and more likely her grandmother. "As I've been saying, this part is acceptable." He pointed to the photograph, unconsciously noting how the image itself _was_ a bit flat in terms of its range of shades, but that alone wasn't something he couldn't work with. "It's this addition." A border of flowers she wanted to frame the image with. "I can do a border for you, but not this."

Her frustrated expression immediately grew deeper, creating lines in the space between her eyes, "I'm not asking for a lot of them though. Maybe a few roses, or even just daises!"

He shook his head, "The type makes no difference. The quality I would produce for them wouldn't match the level of realism I can attain for the portrait itself. Ultimately it would result in a disjunction of style that would not be fair to you." He stated, gently sliding the photograph back across the surface to her, his gaze left with nowhere to go but up to her. Or perhaps he merely wanted to punish himself by watching her expression shift into shades of disappointment that were almost immediately covered over with a more vibrant hue of frustration and anger.

"Whatever." She spat out, curt and to the point as she scooped up her photograph and placed it haphazardly in the bag hanging on her shoulder.

"I apologize for the inconvenience. If you decide to change the concept, we'll be open all week." Near practically mumbled under his breath as she readjusted her bag before turning and leaving through the front door without another word.

The heavy breath that had been trapped in Near's lungs finally exhaled out, his fingers rising up to entangle within the fine locks of his white hair as the 'owner' demeanor he had glued to the surface began to disintegrate away. Apologies were coming much easier to him, lately. He'd never inherently had an issue apologizing, but it seemed as though that was all he ever did… constantly apologizing for his inability, for his inexperience, for conducting himself and his business the way that he did. Such a predicament would take its toll on anyone after a while, and Near was certainly no exception.

In the very least it was humbling, though it was not so much the verbal act itself which was gradually causing a slump to form in his shoulders as it was the overall deteriorating situation that always seemed to lurk within the stillness left behind by the final jingle of the door's bell.

"That's the fourth one this week." Rester commented, his sullen gaze left hanging on the glass door.

"And it's only Wednesday." Near finished, his look also moving to rest upon the glass storefront, illuminated by the warm sunny rays from the outside, while likewise showing the harsh reality of the empty sidewalk and their empty waiting area.

It had never been like this when he worked under L. Even on days like today during the late morning hours of some idle weekday there were at least a handful of people who came through his shop door to get pieces tattooed. In hindsight, Near wasn't sure he could even remember a day when they didn't have at least one client waiting for him to work on them.

How could Near, who had just started out on his own and who had barely a month into the fight, even hope to compete with something akin to the following L had? Not by letting good commissions walk out the door, that's for sure...

Times like these made him want to call his mentor, to ask for assistance or ideas of where to go from here, or in the very least question how exactly he had done it in the beginning, all those years ago. But Near had worked with him long enough to know what he would say: _"You're brand new, Near. Stop being so particular. You lack either the reputation or the years necessary to be able to afford to turn people down."_ Frankly, though, the young artist was not in the mood to hear that sneaking sense of victory laden on L's tone that seemed to play at exactly what he was just mature enough not to say: _"I told you so."_

' _Perhaps I should look into hiring someone to advertise the business and bring in clients.'_ He thought to himself, unconsciously taking a seat at the high counter and pushing away the now useless scraps of paper he'd previously sketched out rough ideas of tattoo ideas for the previous woman, instead taking a clean sheet and a pencil. _'But with what money?'_ They were already barely bringing in enough to cover the costs of the building itself and other expenses, let alone adding another employee onto his list.

" _You're never going to learn if you don't practice."_ L's voice again slipped its way into his contemplations.

' _I know.'_ He countered as his hand blindly began sketching out the faint lines in the shape of simple puzzle pieces pristinely fitting together. _'I can't in good conscience practice on paying canvases. The quality of the work they are paying for should be absolute perfection, not used for my own experimentation.'_ If he was not established enough in the industry to be turning people down, there was no way he was established enough to be hesitantly testing out his abilities.

To this, L's internal monologue offered no response, not for lack of words or advice, but rather because they both knew that Near would hear nothing of the sort. _'Not everything has to be done your way to be considered right.'_ He countered last, letting the vestiges of their internal disagreement finally subside from his thoughts.

He looked up from the sheet of paper just in time to watch a man and woman walk past his shop front. The pair paused just long enough to gaze up at his sign before continuing on their way, though their movements were more reserved, coming to a stop just as they left the range allowed to his sights by the glass panes of his store front.

His eyes narrowed, having watched this scene play out enough times in the last month to know what it meant. They had given his presence the time of day, registered its existence yet kept moving just far enough to stop at Mello's store next door.

' _It's to be expected. His business sells wares in an entirely different realm than my own.'_ The thoughts weighed in his mind momentarily before he pushed it aside, ' _Even if I take that as the reasoning, how am I to take that at purely face value? His wares are seasonal, tricky to cultivate, and die in only a week or more. Mello makes a living off of transient beauty while I offer one at least marginally situated more in permanence. Given the two side-by-side, juxtaposed options, why do people choose his instead?'_

The endless stream of questions sat tingling within the synapses of his mind, begging him to offer a valid answer. Thankfully Near had never known himself to be the sort of person to pass up the opportunity to investigate a particularly interesting mystery.

Perhaps it was about time he finally put into practice the very factor that had made his shop's location palatable in the first place.

He stood from his stool at the front counter, "I have something very important I need to take care of." He said, heading to the door while feeling Rester watching him, "If anyone comes in, take down their information of what they're looking for and come get me next door." He instructed, leaving no room for questions as he pushed the door open and slipped out, crossing the few steps between his world and that of the other.

The difference between their two residences was far vaster than Near had imagined. Near's storefront was sleek and clean, his sign kept to a simple black and white in the hopes of allowing his work inside to speak for itself. But Mello's was far more open with a stand in the front holding an array of potted flowers in varying shades of red, the sign hanging above the store a simple depiction of the name 'The English Garden' in curvy white script with green ivy painted to look as though it was crawling along the edges from each corner.

Perhaps it was Near's isolationism which had kept him hunkered down within his own building that made this sight suddenly stand out as almost shocking for him. How could something like _this…_ something so positively _quaint_ belong to the same fiery blonde who had, just a month previous, practically threatened him with murder if he so much as played a bit of music too loud?

' _Perhaps our initial interaction was bravado.'_ Near thought to himself, looking down to the vibrant flowers and reaching to gently caress their vibrant petals, allowing his ruminations to slip away from him. _'Perhaps by 'owner' what he had meant was, rather, that he's a stand-in face of the business for someone else. Someone a bit more fitting.'_ He envisioned a little old lady to be the actual shop keeper, and that Mello had worked for her for years to eventually take over the business and he had merely fallen into the position of having to strong-arm those who threatened her business.

Near moved to the door, pulling it open and leaving the theory outside. After all, the world was rarely ever so convenient.

The inside of The English Garden was filled with the sweet aroma of the flowers that lined all the walls and seemingly every inch of space in-between, casting the young artist into a sea of color from the most vibrant of passionate reds to the deepest shades of blue and purple. However, it was the surrounding atmosphere itself that made him want to cling to even the most meager of life vest for support amidst this turbulent sea of green, for while it was overshadowed by delight there existed just a tinge of something else… like an underlying flavor that he just couldn't quite place.

"Hey! Those tulips are delicate, be gentle with them!" A sudden familiar voice cut through.

' _Ah, that's what it is.'_ Near thought, meandering over to the side wall as though he'd be able to hide among an assortment of rose bouquets. _'Apprehension.'_

The product displayed within the open store front was a sea of wonderful colors, all seemingly discordantly organized yet somehow still pleasant to the eye, and to those few patrons browsing around. But from the back of the room, where the main counter was, there exuded this tension between the two groups of beings.

Mello's presence loomed like a vicious dictator who was constantly teetering on the edge between calm and anger, yet for one reason or another the customers couldn't help themselves but come back and willingly subject themselves to this. Why was that?

Near's fingers rose to gently trace their way over the petals of one of the rose bouquets his eyes meticulously following the subtle shifts in color which gently faded from yellow near the stem to subtle orange at the edge. _'They're just simple flowers being sold at the peak of their life cycle. What is so inherently special about this?'_ He thought, the velvet petal tenderly kissing the sensitive skin of his fingertips light enough to make him wonder if he was even touching it at all.

"Hey!" That voice suddenly seemed to manifest beside him. "Are you deaf, I said don't touch the petals!" Immediately Near let go, looking over to find Mello beside him, arms crossed over his chest and a disgruntled look plastered across his face, "What are you looking for?" He asked sternly, albeit just a bit quieter than previous so as to tone down the amount of sideways stares they were both now receiving from his patrons.

"Nothing in particular." Near stated, his tone utterly unaffected by Mello's imposing presence. "Truthfully speaking I really just came over to better gauge your business."

That took the blonde back a step, his entire demeanor seeming to shift, "Gauge my business? What the hell are you talking about? If you're not going to buy anything then you don't need to be here!"

To this Near found himself reviewing his own words momentarily. Was Mello really always this quick to frustrate with those who came around his business, or was it just with him? And if it was the latter, what had he done to fester such a laden animosity? "Perhaps I've misspoken. Your business does rather well for itself, and I find myself particularly curious about why and how that came to be."

Honestly, even Near could tell that that didn't exactly clear the matter up any better, but he was at a loss for words as he watched Mello mulling over his words in equal silence, the cogs behind the crystalline orbs spinning in circles to processing his words.

His lips finally set into a hard line, "You're not very good with people, are you?"

Near paused for only a half second. "I fail to see how that pertains to the current matter."

Mello scoffed, "Yeah, that's what I thought." He said, almost to himself before sighing, his shoulders slumping as though in defeat, the final traces of his powerful demeanor seeming to slip into the background, "Let's go talk."

"Talk?"

"You want to 'gauge' my business, right? Well, I have more than a few questions, too, so unless you'd rather we have this conversation out here, let's go."

Near could only pause in wonderment, looking briefly away from their confined small space to the people mingling around his shop, eyeing the product while at the same time really seeming to desire nothing more than to catch just the smallest tidbit of information to help understand what was going on between them.

Every second that passed felt like money now slipping away from not only Near, but Mello as well. Though the blonde seemed not to be even the least bit concerned about that fact. How curious…

"Alright." Near agreed, though something within their shared atmosphere alluded to the fact that Near really didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

Mello turned suddenly to the back counter, "Matt, watch the shop. I'll be out back." He commented curtly over to the red-headed fellow sitting behind the counter and partially obscured by not only a computer screen, but by the pair of goggles situated before his eyes.

Matt looked up momentarily, eyeing the two of them curiously from behind the orange lenses before offering a simple thumbs up before his attention turned back to the screen.

' _Strange.'_ Near thought, brows furling together.

"Come on." Mello pulled him from his thoughts, ushering with a brief nod of his head towards a door at the back of the shop. They went over and exited outside which led to a small concrete courtyard area, surrounded on all sides by the gray slabs of buildings around them.

Near looked around, an inkling of claustrophobia settling in his stomach. Or rather, it would have were it not for the bundles of plant baskets situated around the area with lush green growing out over the top -the sure sign of life prospering despite the concrete prison. For the briefest of moments Near forgot why he had been brought out here to begin with in the face of such an oasis.

"So, what are you doing here?" Mello asked, causing Near to turn back, finding the blonde standing just past the door, his arms folded over his chest, though not before he reached up and pulling the red bandana off the top of his head, releasing the crown of blonde hair to surround and frame his face.

"I… thought we had established that already." Near muttered, the feeling of being trapped steadily beginning to settle into his bones again.

Mello sighed, "No, what I _mean_ is: Who are you? How did you get to be here, owning your own business when you're so young?"

A breath exhaled from the side Near stood on, looking around at the lush green. _'Naturally.'_ He thought to himself. _'We need some foundation to start on. This is essentially networking, and it only makes sense that I'll need to give some in order to get what I want.'_ That's how the game had to be played, and Near had acknowledged that before he'd allowed himself to walk through the front door.

"Well… you know _who_ I am. For the past three years I've been an apprentice to the tattoo artist L, though as you are well aware last month I decided to open my own shop rather than continue to remain under him. Which has led me here. There's… really not that much to tell."

Mello's lips pursed a bit. "'Near'… an alias?"

Near nodded, "Yes, given when I became an apprentice. It's… an individualistic trait of his specific lineage." Mello was quiet, regarding him with suspicion, allowing just long enough of a silence to persist for Near's rebuttal, "You're one to talk. What about you, Mello?"

To this Mello looked away, to one of the planters beside him. "It's an ironic gesture. I didn't pick it."

"We rarely do, it seems." Something within this exchange felt strangely natural. As though they'd been going back and forth like this for years. Still, Near couldn't help cracking a smile at the obvious trail of humor Mello was getting at.

Another line of silence followed on the coattails of the steadily easing mood encompassing them both, each of their defenses appearing to lower just the slightest amount. Though the air was still thick with the words yet to be spoken; that both knew _needed_ to be put out there if they were going to move forward from their current awkward positioning.

Aimlessly Mello stepped forward into the courtyard space, looking away from Near to the planter at his side, gently checking the leaves of the ivy that crawled its away beyond the terracotta siding. "Your business isn't doing well." A statement that was so inherently sure of himself that it almost made Near back step.

"My business is fine." He said before he could catch himself, mentally beginning to call up any and all justifications he could find to use as a weak defense against Mello's perceptive onslaught.

"Like I said before, you're not very good with people."

"You're one to talk."

The leaf in Mello's hand fell as smoldering blue orbs shot back to him, "Are you going to keep back talking me, or do you want my help?"

"I don't need-"

"Yes, you do. Don't lie. I can't stand liars." Mello cut him off only momentarily. "You see everyone go past your place and stop at mine. Obviously you do, otherwise you wouldn't have turned up on _my_ doorstep rather than anyone else's."

' _Perceptive.'_ Near thought to himself, regarding this intense, formidable blonde standing before him who hung the entire world before him on a mere thread, daring him to take hold. But Near's hesitance lay in his wonder of just what lay at the other end of that thread.

"Here's what we're going to do." Mello continued, taking slow and careful steps towards the other until they were practically close enough for Near to be able to smell the musky spice emanating off his being. It was… intoxicating. Poisoning, even. "The shop needs a new sign for out front, and I want _you_ to supply the art for it. You do that, and in exchange I'll help you fix up your own business to bring more people in. Got it?"

Near's gray orbs narrowed on the taller blonde, _'He planned this.'_ He concluded. _'He noticed my business' state just as I noticed his and planned his moves accordingly for whenever I turned up here.'_

Were it anyone else standing before Mello, Near was sure they would have blanched under the mere notion of having been watched, and in a sense analyzed by their neighbor to such an extent. And perhaps that was the proper reaction he _should_ be having. But caught in the moment all he felt was the excitement of intrigue; wanting to know what lurked behind those crystalline orbs that drove the gears of these pristinely calculated actions.

Mello was indeed formidable and a force to be reckoned with, and Near found himself all too willing to be the one to take on the challenge; to position himself at the opposite end of Mello's target range if it meant that he got to hold his attention for just a brief moment longer.

"Why?" Was the only coherent phrase Near could bring himself to mutter, unsure even within himself whether he was questioning why Mello was doing this, why he wanted to help, or why he'd even bothered to notice in the first place? Though he supposed they realistically were all just subtle variations of the same question.

Mello regarded him for a moment longer, azure orbs scanning his totality once more before he scoffed with a smirk breaking across his features that in itself seemed to say, _'You'll have to keep coming if you want that story.'_

And so Near would, as though accepting the silent invitation.

Though the words that befell Mello's lips as he backed off him were instead, "Get out of my shop, you're disrupting my business. Besides, you have work to do now, anyway." There was a snide tone within the words, clearly priding himself on having maneuvered himself into a dominant position between the two of them.

Was that so? Did he see Near as a threat? How curious… If he wasn't careful Near felt he may end up using such a point to his advantage.

"Consider it done." He responded, left paralyzed there in the courtyard as the door closed behind the blonde. Immediately a smirk appeared across his features, _'Got you.'_

He hadn't necessarily expected it to be _this_ easy to establish a connection to Mello, and thus to the material that had eluded his tattooing abilities for years, though he wasn't about to question it either. After all, manipulating the situation had proven simple enough, but in so doing Mello had revealed just as many questions that fascinated Near even in his absence. _'This will be simple enough. I'll get what I need from Mello, and use it to prove myself to L that I can make things work without him.'_

So far, everything was going perfectly according to plan.

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A/N: There are certainly aspects to this chapter that I really enjoy, but likewise some things that I'm not sure how well they work, or question whether they push the agenda far too fast for my usual liking. But anyway, this piece is certainly coming along! Thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorited the previous chapter! I would likewise love to hear any comments you have about this one, as well. Where do you think things will go from here? What do you think is going to happen? I'm very curious to hear your thoughts.

Please review  
 _-Forbiddensoul562_


	3. Metropolitan Greenhouse

Canvas of Flowers

Disclaimer: Please see Chapter 1 for full disclaimer.

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Chapter 3: Metropolitan Greenhouse

The buzz of the needle in his machine used to make Near's hand go numb, but after years of repetitive practice the visceral responses had finally quieted down until he barely registered it anymore. Though still the hum of its oscillations, moving far too quick to be seen found a way to drill holes into his otherwise scrupulous train of thought which meticulously planned out the shading and basic coloring necessary to bring into existence the image envisioned in his own thoughts.

The pervasive silence grew ever more maddening with each passing moment that the space of Near's shop was consumed by nothing other than the reverberations of his needle paintbrush.

"Rester." He called without looking up from his work. The aggravating buzz paused just long enough for Near to wipe away the excess ink that accumulated on the skin, leaving only a black line sewn in its place.

"Sir?"

"Put my music on." He requested, starting up his tool again, sewing yet another line of the image outline. With a few clicks on the computer from the side of the room the room was then filled with the soft, melodious sound of Chopin, the lulling keystrokes drawing a heavy exhale from the young artist. It in itself was hardly loud enough to break through the almost constant buzz, yet it was enough to kill the silence while providing an anchor by which to ground his thoughts and visualizations.

Each keystroke filtering through the speakers positioned throughout the shop gently hummed in his ear a subtle sense of tranquility and utter ease that removed both himself and his work from the plane of worrisome, discursive imaginings to a more concrete visual -nothing short of his current masterpiece. After all, an artist could only rightly be judged by the quality of their last piece. Even if, in this case, the piece consisted merely of a simple pocket watch image.

As he finished up the more major areas of shading, he pulled away, taking in the progress he'd made versus the small bits of detail which still needed to be added. He turned to the table positioned beside him in order to change out the needle to one smaller, and better suited for the intricacies he had in mind.

All of a sudden the front door to the main shop was yanked open, signaled by the ringing bell attached to it. Though, before he could turn to take note of who was entering, a voice cut through the newly established peace he'd only just created for himself. How typical…

"Hey, Near, I've got a bone to pick with you."

Near sighed, slipping the needles into place securely and testing out how it ran in the machine, "Not now, Mello, I'm busy."

There was only a brief pause in their slight exchange before Near allowed himself the moment to look up towards the front of his shop, just in time to watch the dynamic blonde ignore all traditional convention by slipping past the front counter and heading over to him. The fiery blue eyes that had somewhere along the line become so characteristic to Near's imagining of Mello's image were now fixated not on the young tattoo artist, but rather on the leg that was his canvas.

"That's really good." Mello commented, his expression seeming to shift suddenly, "You're not half bad at that."

Near's eyes narrowed, fighting against every urge within him that wanted to assert that _of_ _course_ he was good at this. "Is there something I can help you with, Mello? As you can see, I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment."

Mello immediately seemed to snap back into himself, taking a quick step away while his gaze refocused onto Near, "Yeah, I wanted to know how that ad was coming."

Near's gray eyes only narrowed further on him. "Now?" He questioned, entirely unable or perhaps unwilling to hide the slight suspicion lingering within the single word.

"When else?" Mello responded with a simple shrug, everything outwardly seeming all too convincing in his delivery. But Near knew better than that, even after only a handful of interactions between them Near could read the blonde shop owner better than to think that he didn't have _some_ sort of ulterior motive.

It was late afternoon at the moment, bridging on early evening, yet even on the waning side of business hours it didn't quite seem to be in the blonde's nature to leave his precious store in anyone else's hands. God forbid anyone so much as dare to touch any flower petal when he wasn't there to keep a vigilant eye over them.

The only conclusion Near was left with was the obvious: _'He wants something.'_ But what was he after? Obviously it couldn't be something as simple as an excuse to be around Near.

"I suppose considering the circumstances…" Near trailed off as he turned away from the awaiting blonde and back to the work still before him. He started up the machine again, letting the familiar buzz fill the void. Though, with Mello's presence now lingering just over his shoulder it suddenly felt as though he was entirely unable to hear, let alone focus on the once soothing keystrokes of Chopin that played in the background.

"I've already finished my side of the deal." Near paused, just long enough as he dabbed the single needle into the small plastic container of yellow ink, pointing in the direction of the back area of the shop, "Back there you'll find a canvas with what I have to offer you."

There was another slight pause shared between them before, "You finished it?" Clear surprise lingered upon Mello's words, which again Near resisted the urge to roll his eyes at. Of _course_ he had finished it. It was merely an illustration for a flower shop. While he may refuse to tattoo such subject material, drawing it was an entirely different story all together.

It was simple, rudimentary, even, and as far as Near could control he preferred to wipe away his debts as quickly as possible.

"You're surprised?" Near asked, paying him no mind as he continued his work sewing ink into the skin now darkened by his own art. Mello didn't respond, instead taking it upon himself to move from his position to cross the otherwise empty floor over to the previously designated area, disappearing behind the divider Rester had put up to create an area of privacy and space for all the extra material of the shop. In the very least, it now served as a place for Near to stow his debts until the time that they were collected.

"This?" Mello finally asked, his voice slightly muffled by the artificial barrier now between them, yet even so Near could hear the slight unsettling, unsatisfied tinge appearing in his tone.

Near's brow crossed together, quickly sewing in subtle accentuating hues to the piece to give it a more aged, used look to it. It was those small details that he couldn't overlook, that would bring the piece to life, make it pop and stand out from the rest.

"Yes?" He replied simply as he finished the subtle reflection on what would be the glass of the pocket watch before he pulled away finally, wetting a paper towel to wipe off the excess ink and dots of blood that began to rise to the surface.

"There. We're done." He said to his client with about as much life as if he were reading off a script, hearing in his tone his own absentmindedness that dictated he go find the source for Mello's unsatisfied questioning. Any heart he otherwise would have put behind the delivery had been dragged off to the back room with the blonde. "Rester will get you set up to go, and you can pay him. Give it two weeks to heal and if you need any touch ups they're always free."

He sighed, berating himself for his own unprofessional manner. Years of training on how to provide an excellent product and experience for his clients, and yet suddenly when Mello was involved it all seemed to be for naught. How very interesting indeed.

Placing the machine down on the side rolling table he then stood up, hearing his back creak in protest after having been bent over the same position for so long. Truth be told, the longer Near did this the more he was coming to understand why L had developed such a heavy slouch. Rester then took his place, setting to work cleaning the area and wrapping it while Near crossed the space to the back, immediately finding Mello standing there looking at his prepared canvas with his hands positioned on his hips in silent consideration.

Near looked him up and down once before his gaze moved over to the art in question that had, perhaps unconsciously or unwillingly, taken up a position of Mello's adversary. It was a simple design, the words 'The English Garden' painted onto the foreground in a lovely, bold shade of blue while the bottom, and background were painted in a lush green and various flowers decorating it.

" _This_ is what you have for me?" Mello asked with that same subtle sense of disappointment lingering about him that made Near recoil back a step as his defenses rose around himself.

"Yes, it is. You didn't exactly give me much to work with in terms of what you wanted so I was forced to improvise."

Mello exhaled a heavy sigh, his head falling into his hand for a moment before it lifted and he turned to Near, "The root of all your problems is right there; right in front of you." He motioned to the piece, and as Near glanced at it he felt himself shrink down until he was only an inch tall, if even that; as though he was a child getting scolded.

"Tell me." He forced himself to say as he fell back into the shell of humility he'd built up for so long as an apprentice.

Mello's look hardened on him, "You did this to fulfill your side of the deal and just to get it done rather than taking the time that it actually needed. You didn't come find out what I even wanted, let alone take the time to learn about my product. Clearly what you've done here is just a selfish, goal-oriented piece rather than producing something with real heart behind it. That's it. It doesn't have any heart behind it."

Near recoiled at the harsh words, Mello's accusation pressing into an open wound he hadn't known existed in the first place. But with a deep inhale he let the words pass over him like waves, letting go of any natural urge to take Mello's words as a personal attack, instead forcing himself to remain practical in deciding how to proceed from here, which at the end of the day was ultimately the point of this entire venture, anyway.

"If that's the case, then why didn't you bring to me what you wanted, rather than letting my first attempt fail?"

Mello shook his head, "I shouldn't have to." He stated, a subtle implication of a slight laced within each word against Near's business skills. "You and I both work in giving people what they want, which a lot of the times means reading people to understand what _they want_ when they don't quite know themselves, or have an unrealistic idea of what they're after. You _should_ know that. It's day one. Elementary, really."

Near could've rolled his eyes, growing increasingly tired of listening to Mello spout his supposed faults rather than suggesting where they were to go from here. "Then what exactly do you want to do?" He breathed out while looking anywhere but the canvas of his first attempt, though it licked at the peripherals of his vision.

Mello paused, his gaze moving over the tattoo artist with a new air consuming him which seemed to read straight through Near, the invasiveness of such finally bringing Near to reach up and pull at a lock of hair. "I want to talk." Mello continued, "I want to see how good you are at reading what I want. After all, maybe I wasn't clear before about what's on the line, so I'll tell you again. I'm risking the appearance of _my_ own shop to help _you_ , so you can't just put anything together in a few days and expect everything to turn out well." But another pause between them, each person in that moment regarding both the other, and this beneficial connection being further constructed between themselves and their businesses.

On the surface alone it was clear to see the incredible level of trust being put into someone Mello hardly knew. But in that moment it was not this curious connection being kindled which kept Near quiet, but rather his own fascination with what exactly lay beneath Mello's surface to drive him. Why put so much of himself out on the line for someone he knew next to nothing about? What was he really getting out of it beyond the materialistic aspect? Realistically, Near knew that there was only one way to find out.

Near finally nodded, letting his own personal wonderings slip away to be replaced by his more professional mentality, "Then let's talk." This was all beginning to feel so cyclical. "I apologize for the state of my first attempt. I assure you that the next version I present will be more in line with what you are looking for." It was cut and dry, embodying his usual disposition with these matters. One look to Mello said that even he was able to hear the dullness in Near's words.

"Relax." The blonde commented, "one step at a time."

While Near didn't feel he necessarily needed the cool stream of reassurances that seemed to so naturally fall from Mello's lips, it still felt good to hear from someone who was so quickly forcing his way into his life. Mello gave a small, curt nod as a finisher before turning to leave the back room, Near following after him across the store front, empty of all but Rester. The older man made eye contact with him in a silent, questioning expression regarding this deal between him and Mello.

Near merely shrugged, betraying that even he had very little idea to judge where this was all ultimately going. Beyond his own skill gain, of course. "I'll be back. We have business to discuss." He commented simply, leaving anything else merely unspoken between them as he exited from the shop out into the slowly encroaching warm evening.

Mello had paused on the sidewalk just outside the door, "Who is that guy, anyway?"

"His name is Rester. He was hired to work under me when I began apprenticing under L."

Mello's arms crossed over his chest, "So he's an apprentice."

"No, that's not what I said. Whether or not he has any desire to become a tattoo artist is entirely irrelevant. He was hired to be my assistant. That's all." Saying it aloud made his affiliation with the older man seem entirely cold and detached. Yet nothing was further from the truth, for in all honesty Near had no doubt that he would not have been able to make it this far without Rester's support and unwavering loyalty beside him. Sometimes he had to wonder whether or not he was deserving of such devotion and dependability from the older man.

He pushed the consideration away almost as quickly as it had found residence in his thoughts. "What about you?" He asked, "The guy working for you. Is he…" He wasn't quite sure what the right word was to finish the sentence.

"That idiot," Mello began with just a touch of bitterness attached to the endearing tone as he opened the door to his own store, the sweet aroma of the blossoms within washing over Near. "Is my friend, and employee." Mello crossed the space of his shop with a new air of confidence about him. This was his arena, his creation, and he ran it like a well-oiled machine.

With his level of success behind him, it stood to reason why Mello was able to extend such mannerisms out to the rest of his life. Though, Near couldn't help wondering whether his mannerisms denoted a sign of pride, arrogance, or perhaps naiveté? Then again, were the three not at least in some form distant relatives of one another?

"Matt here." Mello continued said placing his hands on the countertop in front of the redhead, "Runs the internet side of this place. The web page, online orders, events, networking, all of it goes through him." Green eyes looked up from the laptop he'd been typing away at, moving from Mello over to Near. "We're just now doing introductions?" He asked, his look resting on his boss momentarily before then moving over to Near. "Mello would never admit to it, but I'm pretty much the reason this place stays open." He said with a grin.

"Yeah, you wish. Anyway, we'll be upstairs." The blonde said with a roll of his eyes, moving beyond the counter and paving the way for Near to follow.

"Good to meet you." Near said on reflex as the other's green orbs moved back to his screen.

"Yeah, same. Especially since I already hear enough about your place."

There was an air of humor within the words, yet they left no room for Near to question the validity of the statement. His brow furrowed in confusion though he said not a word as he continued to trail along behind Mello, the pale brown wooden floor creaking beneath his steps as he made his way up the stairs to the door at the end.

The layout of the area up to the door was nearly identical to his own, though Near had expected nothing less. However, as the door was pushed open it was as though the two had stepped into an entirely new dimension. The floor plan, contrary to his own, was that of a two-bedroom apartment, as indicated by the closed doors that sat parallel to one another on the side walls. The entrance door opened into the decently sized combined living and dining space, while an open kitchen sat on the far left.

However, it was the jungle of plants that covered almost the entire space which caught Near's wonder and imagination. Large planters with vibrant, lush plants and flowers spilled over the confined growing room, each lay precariously positioned everywhere, from tables and shelves to the floor and even on parts of the couch and other furniture. Artificial lighting hung over many of the planters, the pale lighting and fading sunlight from the windows providing the only illumination. The number of plants, let alone figuring where one planter ended and another began was almost impossible.

"Be careful." Mello told him, navigating the ordered chaos with precision. "Watch your step and do _not_ touch anything." His tone commanded of the younger, but in that moment there was no greater desire in his bones then to reach out and run his fingers over the foliage, just to prove to himself that the images filtering into his eyes of this paradisiac nursery were real.

What a marvel this was. Surely one of the greatest sights Near had seen since arriving in this city. Within an overwhelming sea of gray and cold lifeless concrete Mello had breathed life, creating for himself an oasis. A metropolitan greenhouse.

"Amazing." Near heard himself admit with a breathy exhale.

Mello stopped at the wooden table in what was supposed to be the kitchen space, the top of which was entirely covered by books, magazines, and random papers. "Excuse me?"

Near shook his head to clear the thought from his mind, "What I mean is…How did you set all of this up? I shudder to imagine what your utility bill must be every month." The words fell from his lips as he carefully meandered into the kitchen area, his gaze coming to rest upon a clear box on one of the counters with a water filtration system whirring within it, all parts functioning together to help grow a series of lotuses.

It was all so meticulous, so perfectly constructed, and so wholly opposite to the brazen personality Near had come to characterize of Mello. The said blonde sighed as he cleared the table, "You're asking the wrong questions."

' _The wrong questions?'_ Was there truly such a thing? Near had never thought so, for if something was worth pondering then it was worth asking. He pushed his own wonderings away, however, in order to cross the jumbled space ever so carefully to sit at the table across from the florist, trying his best not to give in to the temptation of letting his eyes meander around the room to take in all of the details.

"Is this all to be sold downstairs?" He finally found himself asking.

"Some of it." Mello said simply, resting his chin upon his open palm, "This is supposed to be our interview. Or, a consultation, if you want to call it that." He finally clarified, his expression just a bit perturbed that Near hadn't followed his train of thought.

On the contrary, Near _had_ followed, yet, placed into such an environment, that roused so many questions about Mello's character, how could he do anything other than let his mind wander momentarily?

"So, interview me." Mello prodded, yet Near could only scowl at him, unsure of exactly why this was necessary right now. Sure, perhaps in this one instance Near had assumed too much when designing Mello's sign, but generally speaking Near _knew_ how to consult with clients to understand what they were looking for; and more importantly to expound upon ideas they already have brought to his attention.

But if these were the games Mello wanted to play, then he was more than willing to win them.

"Alright," He reached up to a strand of hair, pulling a leg up onto the chair with him, "Well then, what exactly are you looking for?"

Mello leaned back in his own seat, arms crossing over his chest with a smug grin forming across his features, "No idea."

Near's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "You have…no idea?" Of course Near could see straight through Mello's antics; his immature desire to frustrate the artist. However, unfortunately for the florist, Near had an infinite level of patience to offer.

"Nothing? Not even the colors, or the plants you want featured?"

He shrugged, "The one out there now is alright but I've never thought it to be a very good reflection of me, or the store itself."

' _That's an understatement…'_ Near thought to himself, biting his tongue. "That's not exactly much to be going on."

The older shrugged, his eyes shifting away from the artist to gaze disinterestedly around the room, "That's the point. You need to improvise and make up for what you don't know based on the information you _do_ have."

"Perhaps, but I did that once before and you were less than pleased."

Blue orbs flicked back to him, "No, you worked on your own to produce a piece for the sake of getting it done quicker. There's no heart in that process, nor in what you made."

To this Near's generally perplexed look only deepened. "Heart? We're doing business right now. There's hardly any room for such trivialities as heart in matters like this."

Mello's look trained on him, muted and devoid of its usual intense burn, instead replaced with a simple somber reticence that seemed to entirely pick apart Near's own positional before slow and carefully chosen words spilled from between his lips, "Have you ever grown anything before?"

Did _everything_ come back to plants with Mello? He seemed so one track minded with these thing…it was oddly endearing in a way, but curious at the same time.

"I… can't say I have." Near said with just as much care given to his words, treading into this digression with trepidation to see what new hole Mello was pulling them down.

Mello remained silent for a long moment before suddenly getting up from his seat, moving around the room and grabbing various items from around the small space. Once he finally returned, he deposited on the tabletop a small terracotta planter, filled nearly to the brim with soil, and a single brown seed.

He held the seed up, held between his thumb and index finger, "A lot of people love plants, and want to have them, but then they find that they're shit at actually growing anything. Usually it's because they don't understand what goes into raising plants." He placed the seed on the table's surface, sliding it across the slight space separating them as though offering some corporate deal contract.

"Sure, you could plant this seed and water it and it will grow. But there's a distinct difference between what you'll obtain from just going through the motions, and what you'll get when you take the time to give it the attention, patience, and heart it deserves."

Near's gray eyes flicked down to the seed, acknowledging this as Mello's attempt to get him to put 'heart' into growing this seed, as though it would magnify up and affect his own craft. It felt juvenile, but what other option did he have? "You want me to take this?" He finally asked, his look flashing from the offered seed up to Mello's expectant expression.

He nodded, "Exactly. It teaches patience and heart, which is just as crucial as the strategic or economic aspect of running a business." After the words passed his lips the blonde slid over the pot to rest next to the seed he'd placed on the wooden surface.

Near hesitated for just a moment, eyeing the plant suspiciously and quickly considering what hidden motive or trap could Mello have planted within the relatively simple gesture? After all, he had proven to be conniving in the past. But at the same time, what harm could realistically come of the actions? So, he finally slid the two items over to himself, the cold stone feeling strange and foreign beneath his fingers. This was certainly a far reach from his usual comfort zone of annoying vibrations, ink and needles.

The discomfort must have shown in his features, for Mello chuckled and said, "You know, it's not going to grow if you just leave it there."

Near held back a glare, wanting to spout the first witty retort that came to mind, yet thinking better of it in favor of his continued silence. He felt like a child under the watchful, expectant gaze of a parent. Yet, with no other option available to him, finally he reached into the pot, his fingers gingerly digging a small hole into the soft, loamy soil, then plopping the seed down and covering it in its dark bedding.

He looked up, finding a more genuine smile creasing the lines of the florist's features, immediately drawing new questions to Near's mind about why this simple action meant so much to the blonde. Why go to such a length as this? Not to mention, where did an idea such as this come from when Mello usually came across as so outwardly brash?

The blonde slipped over to the counter, or what free space remained of it, taking a glass and filling it with water. Upon returning to the table, he poured a steady stream overtop of the buried seed. "There, see, you're practically a natural."

Near glanced from where he watched the soil slowly absorb the liquid up to the blonde that loomed next to him, his entire demeanor seeming to have eased through just the miniscule action. "Don't say that." Near muttered, "If that's indeed the case then if the tattoo shop doesn't work out, I would have to go into the flower selling business, which would make me your competition."

Mello scoffed, "Please. You'd never last in a competition against me."

The space fell into silence, Near's eyes slipped back down to lock onto the plant meant to harbor his patience, heart and attention. Still a worry seemed to linger… how was he supposed to assure that he was giving it his all? What would it mean, to himself and to Mello if this plant did not produce the desired outcome?

The entire venture seemed so entirely clouded over with a mix of paranoia and skepticism. But cutting through that fog seemed to be one pervasive feeling that Near was able to latch onto: suddenly he didn't feel ready for this level of responsibility.

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A/N: I apologize for the random update of this, and for taking so many months to update it. I've had this chapter done for a while, but other pieces got in the way of actually updating this, as well as the pervasive feeling that perhaps I'm the only one who really likes the piece. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as it sets many themes and images for the future of the story itself. Thanks to everyone who continues to read and enjoy this, or any new people who are just now finding this piece! I will try to update sooner, next time. I would absolutely love to hear any thoughts you might have about this!

Please review  
 _-Forbiddensoul562_


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